


Pretty Little Bird

by second_hand_heaven



Category: DCU
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Bukkake, Crossdressing, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Responsible removal of makeup before bed, Shameless Smut, talk about your feelings first ffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: Conner finds something very interesting on the floor of Tim’s room at the Manor. It really should have been the end of it, until Kon finds a very interesting someone in Tim's room."So Kon's drooling over an attractive woman. It's nothing new. Except for the fact that the attractive woman is Tim. That's definitely new."





	Pretty Little Bird

 

“What’s this?” Kon asks, holding up the offending material. Somewhere between a pair of boxers and boyleg-cut panties, it’s an oddity. Tim can’t pass it off as a pair of his own underwear, and they both know it would be a lie if he said it belonged to some _female company_ , so Tim sighs and readies himself to tell the truth.

They're meant to be having a night of pizza and video games at the Manor, but it's taken an odd turn before they even start. Tim curses himself for not putting it away. He’s not ashamed, but a blush still rises to his cheeks. “It’s called a gaff. It’s for flattening out everything, uh, downstairs.”

Kon blinks at him. Tim watches his face shift from confusion to understanding, and then more confusion. “Is there something you need to tell me, buddy?”

“When Steph was… away, Batman had an undercover assignment where he needed a female operative.” Tim shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

“And you were the first pick?” Kon says, eyebrows raised.

He was, but that’s beside the point. His masculinity isn’t so fragile to be offended by it.  “Why, don’t you think I’d be a pretty girl?” He bats his eyelids at Kon, who splutters out something unintelligible. “I’m sorry,” he grins, “what was that?”

“I said I'm screwed either way.”

Mmm. Tim would screw Conner anyway he asks, but that isn't really relevant right now. Especially with the whole ‘best friend, probably straight’ issue. He tries not to think too much about that. So instead he hums noncommittally, taking the gaff from Conner's hand.

“Have you got a pair of tits in here too?” Conner says, looking around the room.

“Back of the closet,” Tim deadpans. It's the truth. The breast forms, the lingerie, the rest of the disguise is tucked away in the bottom corner of his wardrobe. It's where the gaff should be too. How did it get on his floor? He opens the wardrobe door and throws the gaff on top of the pile of clothes shoved in at the bottom.

He should laugh it off, change the subject, but Conner is looking at him so intensely, he can't think of what to say.

And then Kon asks him something that throws him for a loop. “Do you like it?”

Does he like going undercover as a woman? Yes. No. Sometimes. “Mostly it’s just to get information, or for gross men to follow me under the guise of having sex, before backup swoops in. Nothing really that exciting.”

It's not the most comfortable disguise, although it's certainly not the worst. The gaff itself took a lot of getting used to, and even now it’s still a weird sensation. But there is something exciting about it. He gets to be a new person, a different piece on the chessboard. It's not about being a woman, it's about being someone entirely new. How can he explain that to Kon?

Conner bumps his shoulder against Tim's, drawing him out of his thoughts. “C’mon,” he says, “let’s order some pizza. I'm starving.”

And Tim, foolishly, thinks it's the end of it.

* * *

Tim gets back from his mission, ready to flop onto his bed and fall straight asleep. He enters his bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. Groaning, he passes his bed and heads for the bathroom. He learnt his lesson last time: it’s not worth sleeping in his make up.

He pauses at the threshold between his room and ensuite. There’s a breeze coming through his window, the window he was certain he locked before leaving the Manor. His shoulders tense.

Someone is in his room.

He pauses, waiting for the assailant to make their move, to reveal themself. There’s a gasp from behind him, like he’s caught the intruder off-guard. “Who are-”  

Wait, Tim knows that voice. He spins around to face the intruder. “Conner?” Tim asks, his voice is a little higher than normal, “what the hell are you doing here?”

But Kon is too busy staring at him to answer.

Tim’s flattered by the reception, really. He knows he makes a pretty picture, even this late. Despite a tussle with some guy at the bar, Tim’s wig is still in place, a mane of flowing hair a shade lighter than his own. His eye make up is as immaculate as when he left, thanks to his new setting spray. He looks good and he knows it. There isn’t even any chaffing from the gaff, which is a miracle in itself.

“Does this answer your question?” Tim says, gesturing to his whole ensemble.

Conner gapes at him. “W- what?”

Tim bats his false eyelashes. “Am I a pretty girl?”

He watches Conner's gaze glide up his body. Black combat boots loosely laced over torn fishnets. Crushed velvet mini skirt, topped with a thick studded belt. A form-fitting burgundy top with what Steph referred to as a ‘boob window’, showing off the curve of his pecs while the breast forms fill out the rest. He's got a short black leather jacket over his shoulders, accentuating the slight curve of his hips.

Conner looks him in the eyes and licks his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd say so.”

So Kon's drooling over an attractive woman. It's nothing new. Except for the fact that the attractive woman is Tim. That's definitely new.

It’s fun, a little exciting, seeing the guy Tim’s been fawning over for god knows how long acting like this toward him, but would Conner react the same to Tim, regular Tim, without the lipstick and fake tits? No, of course not, and the thought is like ice. Shit.  “Why are you here, Kon?” Tim says, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“I…” Kon tries, but nothing comes out.

Tim sighs and turns away, heading toward the bathroom. Or he tries, at least. Conner is right up in Tim's space, fist grasping Tim's hair and forcing him to meet Kon's eyes. Tim winces as Conner tugs at the wig again.

His eyes are wide, pupils blown as he hisses in Tim's face. “You so look hot as a girl, give me a fucking break.”

Oh.

Tim tilts his chin up, challenge glinting in his eyes. “No, I don't think I will.” There's a redness tingeing his cheeks, not from the powdered blush. They're close enough to kiss, and Tim wants it.

“I'm going to kiss you,” Kon says, his words suddenly softer, “please let me kiss you.”

Tim doesn't answer, just closes the distance between them. It's tentative, sweet even, but there's a heat between them, simmering beneath the surface. His palms slide up Conner's broad chest, one hand reaching around to the back of Conner's neck, deepening the kiss. He leans closer, his false breasts pressing against Kon. A large hand comes up to Tim’s face, cupping his clean-shaven jaw.

Tim pulls back from the kiss, panting. There's a smear of red across Kon's lips. Fuck, that's hot. Conner must think so too. He stares hungrily at Tim as he wipes the lipstick from the corner of  Conner's mouth with his thumb.

Tim's hand pauses, thumb resting against the bottom edge of Kon's lip. “That was-” he tries, but he's cut off by Conner's lips on his again. He moans into Kon’s mouth, opening to the kiss. It’s fast and it’s messy and it’s perfect.

Conner’s mouth moves from Tim’s lips to his jawline, peppering sweet kisses along that sensitive skin. “I want you,” Kon rasps against Tim’s throat, and it’s the hottest thing Tim’s heard in... forever. Kon wants Tim, it's like all Tim's Christmases have come at once. He's wanted this for far too long.

Tim tries to focus, but the way Conner keeps nipping at his neck is far too distracting. “Just, fuck, just let me get out of this first.” Kon's gaze falls heavily on Tim's back as he walks away.

In the privacy of the bathroom, he kicks off his boots and rolls his fishnets down his legs. Next, he shucks his skirt up under his armpits. He peels the gaff down his hips, sighing in relief as he untucks himself. Much better. He rolls his balls in his hand a for a moment, biting back a moan. If he’s lucky, Kon might take care of that for him. He pulls up his stockings and tugs the skirt back down, just enough to cover his ass. He has a feeling he won't be needing it too long.

With a glance in the mirror, he surveys the rest of the outfit. The glue from the front of the wig has started to peel off. From the bathroom cabinet he retrieves some acetone solution and dabs it on his hairline. He peels off the wig, setting it on the counter. He’ll deal with it tomorrow.

He pulls a tube of lipstick from his jacket pocket. Uncapped, he stares at the colour. He won’t be able to wear it again without thinking of how it looked smeared across Conner’s lips. He reapplies his lipstick, pouting in the mirror. He's never been one for makeup, but the lipstick is something he's partial to.

The door opens and a pair of hands come up to rest on Tim's hips. “Impatient, are we?” Tim asks, nothing but innocent sweetness in his voice. He meets Conner's eyes in the mirror. The grip on his hips tightens, the waistband of his skirt biting into Tim's flesh.

Kon leans forward, pressing himself up against the length of Tim’s body. “You're such a tease,” he hisses against the shell of Tim's ear.

“Who, me?” Tim tries to turn in Conner's embrace, but is held firmly in place by Conner's grip. Tentatively, he pushes his hips back against Kon, feeling a certain hardness forming in Kon’s jeans.

He bites the inside of his cheek as Kon thrusts against him, pushing him against the vanity. “Fuck.” Tim braces himself against the countertop, finding more leverage. Pride flares in Tim's chest. _He_ did that, he made Kon this aroused and needy. Kon wants him, and Tim can't bring himself to stop.

Of all the times he pictured this, of him and Kon finally doing _this_ , he never imagined he'd be wearing fake tits. But, he supposes, he can't really complain. Not with the way Conner is grinding his cock against Tim’s ass. God, he wants that _in_ him.

Tim twists in Conner’s grasp until he can face him, the edge of the vanity digging into his ass. He paws at the front of Kon's jeans, searching for the fly. Kon thrusts against Tim's hand but the friction just isn't nearly enough. “Let me,” Tim says as he sinks to his knees. It’s a little cramped, caught between the vanity cupboard and Kon, but he can’t bring himself to care. He undoes Kon’s fly and slips his hard cock from the confines of his underwear.

Tim has seen it all before, of course, but this is nothing like catching a glimpse of a naked Kon in the team showers. He’s hard and waiting just for Tim, and ego boost that spurs Tim into action. He wraps his lips around the head, tonguing the slit. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but this is _Kon_ , hot and heavy on his tongue, and the reality of the fact has him moaning around Kon’s dick.

Kon slips a hand into Tim’s hair, his real hair, not holding Tim down, just a comforting weight against Tim’s scalp. Spit spills from Tim’s lips, his usual finesse failing him, though his enthusiasm can’t be tamed. What Tim can’t take in his mouth, he strokes with his hand, finding a rhythm that has Kon panting and moaning at a volume that would have Superman blushing back home in Metropolis.

“Tim, I-” He's close, thighs and throat tight with the strain of holding back. Fingers tug at Tim’s hair, sharp, in warning.

Tim pulls off Conner’s cock, hand still pumping at the base. He closes his eyes as the first warm burst hits his cheek. He won’t be able to salvage these eyelashes, that’s for sure.

Tim sits back on his heels, catching his breath. When he opens his eyes, he sees Conner looking down at him with awe.

“You look so pretty on your knees.”

Pretty. Kon thinks he's pretty dressed up as a girl. In fairness, Tim _was_ the one to ask. It was fun, teasing Kon like that, but now its severity starts to sink in. His cheeks are flushed but he feels chilled to his core. Kon thinks he's pretty, but that's not what he wants. _Pretty_. What a word.

He stands, turning away from Conner. From the top drawer of the vanity he pulls out a packet of makeup wipes.

Gently, he drags the across his cheek and lips. It comes away sticky. He feels his breath catch somewhere in his throat. In the mirror, he sees a glimpse of himself. Messy and debauched, with swollen lips and come drying on his face. Fuck. His cock twitches in his tights.

“Tim?”

He ignores Conner and peels off his fake eyelashes. He was right, there's no way he can salvage this pair for another use. Another makeup wipe takes off most of his foundation. He rubs at his eyes, unable to get the last remnants of liner from his waterline. So be it. Maybe he can blame the eventual bags under his eyes on smeared makeup instead of another angsty sleepless night.

Tim walks out of the bathroom, leaving Conner behind. Shucking of his jacket, he tosses the material to the floor, not caring where it lands. He sits on the edge of his bed, kicking off his boots. He’ll deal with the mess in the morning. He unhooks his bra, letting the breast forms fall, first to his lap, then to the ground. Stupid fucking tits. With a swinging kick, he sends them flying across the room.

Tim buries his face in his hands. How can he make tonight disappear? He's ruined everything.

“Tim?”

He knows he shouldn’t, but Tim keeps ignoring Kon’s pleas.

“For god's sake, look at me!” Anger. Finally, something Tim can work with.

He looks up at Kon wearily. “What are we doing?”

Conner falters. “We… what?”

Anger crackles under Tim's skin. “Because it looks like you want to fuck me because I look like a hot girl. And I'm not, okay? I might like guys, but I'm not a girl.”

“Tim, that's not-”

“No? Then why is it you only want me when I'm dressed up?”

Kon holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. “You're the one that blew me.”

Tim pauses, a chilling thought washing over him. “You didn't want that?” Oh god, what has he done?

Kon blanches. “I didn't say that. Please don't think that. I did want it, I just wish-”

“What? Wish I was a chick? Wish it wasn't your best friend that just dropped to his knees to suck you off like a cheap whore?”

“I wish you would shut up and let me finish.” With a sigh he sits down on the bed beside Tim. “I was going to say I wish we talked this over first.”

Ah. “That would have been best,” he says, staring down at his stocking-clad feet. But what would talking have done? Shaken Conner out of his ‘hot girl, must bang’ trance? Shaken _himself_ out of that driving desire to sink to his knees and take-

“I meant what I said.” Kon breaks the silence between them. “I want you, okay? Not a costume.”

“Really?”

Conner smiles at him, eyes crinkling softly at the corners. “Yeah really.”

Wow. Tim asks, a little hopeful, “why did you come here tonight?”

Kon rubs at the back of his neck. “I wanted to see you. We haven't hung out for a while.”

They haven't, not really. He's been so busy with this case, dealing with all the family drama, and this _crush_ that refuses to go away, that they haven't had any one-on-one time in… ages. Fuck.

It's all his fault. “I'm sorry. I should have…”

But Kon cuts him off. “C’mere,” he says, pulling Tim onto his lap. Tim straddles his hips, skirt riding up, hands and cheek pressed against Kon's chest. Kon holds him there, just holds him, and Tim feels the earlier anxieties begin to melt away. This is Kon, after all, he won’t let this tear them apart. “I missed you,” Kon says, his voice low, “I thought maybe I did something wrong, or maybe you'd figured it all out, and-”

“No.” Tim cuts him off, brushing his lips against Kon's. “I missed you too,” he says, pulling back barely a breath from Kon. “I just never thought that you’d want this.” _That you’d want me._

“Tim, I, I want this. I want you, I have for too long.” His fingers flex against Tim’s hips.

Kon’s hand slides down his hip to the hem of Tim’s skirt. “Is this okay?”

Tim's heart hammers against his rib cage. “Yes.” It's more than okay, it's just what he wanted, what he dreamed of.

Kon’s hands find their way beneath the waistband of Tim’s stockings, so warm against Tim’s skin. He pulls Tim's dick out of the fishnets, keeping his balls tucked behind, and licks a stripe across his palm.

One spit-slick hand tugs at Tim's cock, working him to hardness. Tim makes a keening sound, thrusting up into the loose grip of Kon’s fist.

Kon's other hand slips inside Tim’s stockings and fondles Tim's balls. “Fuck, you’re so smooth. Did you shave?”

“Wax,” Tim hisses through clenched teeth. “Had to -ah- had to jerk off afterwards. S-so fucking sensitive. Couldn’t tuck with a boner.” He braces one hand against Kon's chest to steady himself, the memory of earlier that day washing over him in a tidal wave.

Conner grins at him. “What did you think about? To get off?”

Surely it’s obvious? “You,” Tim pants, “your hands on my dick. Your mouth. Your dick.” Mmm, especially that. “Thought about you -ah- fucking me.” That was what sent him over the edge, the thought of Kon fucking deep inside him, murmuring soft words in his ear. “Was so good.”

“That's so hot,” Kon says against Tim's neck, nuzzling the tender skin. Tim shivers as Kon rakes his teeth across the flesh, hips bucking into Kon’s hand.

Conner bites down on Tim’s collarbone, sucking hard at the skin and sinew like he’s determined to leave a mark. Tim wants him to, wants a reminder of this in case it’s the only moment he has with Kon like this. The pain and pleasure twist together, intertwining until they become one overpowering sensation that draws Tim over the edge.

“Conner,” he sighs, spilling over Kon's hand. He slumps forward against Conner's chest. Fuck, that was amazing. Kon strokes him through it, peppering kisses along Tim’s throat.

Tim tries to gather himself as Conner wipes his hand off on a tissue. With some difficulty, Conner peels down Tim's tights and slides the skirt up and over Tim's shoulders and head. He tosses the clothes on the floor carelessly. “You good?” he asks, looking down at the puddle of Tim in his arms.

Tim nuzzles closer to Kon's chest. “More than good. I'm never moving ever again.” The warmth of Kon's body against his and the satedness sinking into his bones melted into one overwhelming concoction of sleepiness.

Kon chuckles and lays back on the bed, bringing Tim with him. “I’m okay with that, but your dad might have other ideas.”\

“Don’ care,” Tim mumbles, “comfy.” Content, Tim tightens his arms around Kon and drifts off to sleep.

 

_FIN_


End file.
